


a day too early (still a couple dollars short)

by thatotherperv



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Banter, M/M, all roads lead to canon (sorta), pre-BDSM, written before s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-08
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 02:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatotherperv/pseuds/thatotherperv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey picks up Mike in the pilot instead of Miss Eat-It-Off-My-Stomach.  Mike isn't easy, in any sense beyond the obvious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: I just asked that this fic be removed from GoodReads - I am NOT comfortable with my work being on that site. please be courteous and do not add it or any of my other work back. Thanks!
> 
>  
> 
> originally posted as "one of the many ways Harvey didn't meet Mike," until the final chapter when it got a proper title

"You two seem to be celebrating something."

All evening, their waiter had proven to have impeccable timing. Efficient without being intrusive...it didn't surprise Harvey that he'd timed the check well, too. And of course, the light small talk to remind them he'd be worth tipping. He gave the kid points for looking to Jessica, recognizing where the power was. A lot of waitstaff got that wrong when they were out together.

Harvey'd done the dance himself enough to know the skill that went into making it seem effortless. Of course, now that he was looking, he realized the kid was older than he thought...definitely at the upper end of where _finding yourself_ was considered acceptable occupation. So likely, he'd had lots of practice.

"...the best closer this city's ever seen."

The waiter turned to Harvey with a sharp-edged focus that he hadn't been expecting; his perusal was too matter-of-fact to be a come-on, but it zinged down Harvey's spine. "Attorney?"

Now he was intrigued. "Not the first thing people think of."

"Well, I already know you're not a Major League pitcher."

It was stupid for a grown damn man to feel a pang of loss at that, so Harvey squelched it. He settled back in his seat, carefully casual. "You do?"

The kid had a small tilt to his lips, both cocky and knowing. "I'm good with faces. Plus, you've got that look."

"What look is that?"

"The one that says you make grown men cry for a living. And you like it. I'm gonna guess...M&A's your thing."

Harvey blinked once, surprised. Not quite true, granted, but close enough to revise Harvey's first impression. "Law student?" he guessed.

The smug look faded and left an imitation smile. "No," the kid said simply. "Anyway, congrats on closing your deal. Have a great night."

The last was addressed to the other side of the table, where Jessica looked amused that Harvey'd forgotten her completely. She generously waited til the kid was out of sight before she mocked him.

"At last, worthy prey. Enjoy your victory lap with..." She glanced at the bill and gathered her things. "Mike. But not too much. I expect you at the office tomorrow.  _On time_ , Harvey."

Harvey grinned but promised nothing. He never made any promises that he didn't plan to keep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this scenario seriously snagged me, because I can't help thinking how Mike might have treated Harvey if he, A) didn't owe him for his job, and B) Harvey hadn't quickly acknowledged his genius. It makes such a big difference in their dynamic, I think, that now I've gone there, I can't stop.
> 
> BTW, if you reread the original drabble that is now pt 1, you didn't imagine the changes. I did some polishing because it was originally scribble-and-post. I am horribly prone to post-posting revisions.

He waited quite a while for the kid to come back by - he was given ample time to vacate. When the window passed and he still hadn't, Mike returned with his annoyance buried deep beneath solicitation. "Is there anything you need, sir?"

Harvey tipped his head and smiled, making sure his dimples popped. "As a matter of fact, there is. Listen, I don't normally do this...." Mike quickly shed the 'waiter' mask and stared with incredulity. Harvey grinned in acknowledgment and easily shifted tactics. "Ok, I do. Harvey Specter."

Mike looked at his outstretched hand with a small dose of irritation and glanced around for his shift manager before he met the handshake. "Mike. I don't have time for you to amuse yourself."

"Fair." It wasn't hard-to-get flirtation; Harvey liked _this_ even more. "Give me an answer, and I'll go."

Mike's eyes dropped from his for a new type of once-over...Harvey should've been insulted that the answer wasn't immediate. Somehow, he wasn't. The honest indecision was almost novel. Refreshing.

And when the decision finally registered - a _why not?_ more than anything - Harvey found himself amused more than annoyed.

Mike said, "I'm not off-shift til midnight," which made him check his watch. It was just shy of eleven.

"In that case, I do need something. I'll have another scotch."

*

He didn't bother hiding his interest while he nursed his drink. He watched Mike serve the tables in his section, never looking Harvey's way.

It turned out, though, that Mike was paying more mind than it looked. On the fourth pass, he stopped at Harvey, lowered his voice and told him, "You need to stop molesting me with your eyes."

"I object." Harvey strove to look innocent. "My eyes have made no contact with your person."

"Oh, I get it," Mike all but rolled his eyes. "It's funny cause you're a _lawyer_." He didn't wait for a rejoinder before walking away.

Harvey had to bite back on a grin.

He found himself charmed that Mike didn't find him charming. As the hour wore on, he kept trying, increasingly over the top until the goal was more about making Mike cranky than it was about flirtation. Like reverse psychology, it worked in a way...if he was obnoxious _enough_ , Mike would crack a smile ( _I do it for the children_).

When Mike's shift was up, he'd lost and won the kid about a dozen times, and somehow that made the cab ride to his building even sweeter, despite the slightly awkward silence when Mike refused to make conversation.

*

Harvey's condo usually impressed. But Mike hadn't finished his cool-eyed assessment of the living room when he said, somewhat bored, "So...how do you want to do this?"

Harvey slipped out of his suit jacket and watched him look around, amused. "Is this a new thing the kids are doing? Log a flight plan before takeoff?"

"No offense but you're kind of..." Mike gestured vaguely at the room, like that meant something. "You know what you want and probably _exactly_ how you want it, so if you'll give me something to go on, we can both get something out of it."

Harvey studied him, bemused. Both at Mike, and at himself for not shoving him out the door. At least it wasn't boring. "And what is it you're getting out of this selfless act of wish fulfillment."

Mike stepped close with that intent look from the restaurant, hooking his index fingers into the pockets of Harvey's waistcoat. "Honestly, it's been a while since I've felt like getting fucked, and I have this inexplicable attraction to jerks, so you're just my type. My plan is to use you for your dick – I personally would like to be on top, but I'm willing to be flexible here. So if you have any particular requests, I'm willing to work them in."

This had to be the strangest verbal foreplay Harvey'd ever had. It was kind of working, though. "No, I'm good with that, actually."

"Excellent." Mike let go of him and smirked, eyes suddenly impassive. "So where's the gold-encrusted bed?"

"You encrust with diamonds," Harvey corrected. "You plate with gold."

Mike rolled his eyes. "So not the point." Without further direction, he turned and walked away.

He dropped his synthetic skinny tie in the doorway to the bedroom.

Harvey didn't follow immediately. He took time choosing a record for the sound system. It was more to keep his dignity than to set the mood.

When he finally went to the bedroom, he found a cheap white button-down crumpled on the floor. Harvey paused in the doorway, watching Mike take in the view. He stood bare-chested at the windows, indifference forgotten as he – well, there were no other word – _gawked_.

He felt his lips curl in a quiet smile, pleased at the reaction in this hardass, gorgeous kid. "Impressive, right?"

Mike's expression pokered up. He turned his back on the windows and ran his eyes down Harvey's suit. "I dunno. Drop your pants so I can tell you."

Harvey smiled, sharp, in lieu of laughing, almost annoyed he had no come-back. Except, "You first, hotshot."

Mike maintained steady eye contact as he worked his belt and fly while toeing off his shoes. Harvey lifted an eyebrow when his horrid uniform slacks pooled on the floor. Mike wasn't wearing any underwear.

"Laundry day," Mike said, unashamed. "It's this thing that happens when your clothes don't clean themselves."

Harvey closed the distance between them slowly, hands tucked in his pockets. "You make assumptions about my lifestyle."

Mike scoffed. "Call it an educated guess."

"Oh, the urchin has an _education_." It was a calculated risk to throw that down, when he was close enough to snag him. Before Mike had time to side-step, he pinned the kid against the window with his $6,000 suit.

He tipped Mike's head and kissed the retort out of him, until all the angry tension in his body went away.

The kid was a little breathless when Harvey pulled away. His face was flushed and his eyes were closed, and he was stroking Harvey's waistcoat.

Mike licked his lip and drew a breath. "It's almost painful how predictable it is that you'd want to fuck like _this_."

Harvey laughed. He couldn't help it. In contrast to his attitude thus far, Mike's eyes slid open and he gave an easy grin. "C'mon. Me naked, you in your power suit, the symbol of your financial domination laid out behind me. Isn't it a little much?"

"I do abhor cliché."

Mike pushed him back and rolled his eyes, looking painfully his age. "You _are_ a cliché."

Harvey let Mike steer him backwards towards the bed. He also didn't correct him, because in a lot of ways, he was. Cliché. Completely by design. And few people called him on it.

Mike pushed Harvey's jacket off his shoulders and made quick work of his waistcoat, muttering about the many layers. When Harvey's dress shirt was shucked off then _kicked_ , he finally spoke up at the abuse to his belongings.

"I know your uniform cost you twenty bucks at Walmart, but the shirt that you just trampled costs more than your whole paycheck."

Mike spared a look through his lashes while he opened Harvey's belt. "If you wanted someone who would cater to your weird clothing fetish, you brought home the wrong guy. Do you want me to fuck you, or fold all your clothes?"

He took that as rhetorical from the way Mike stripped him of his pants and briefs as one, and pushed him back onto the bed. Especially since Mike crawled on top of Harvey and rubbed, full-bodied like a cat. He tried to pull Mike down to kiss him, and Mike bit his neck.

Impatient, Harvey rolled them, and Mike rolled them right back. "Nuh-uh, you yielded to my plan. No takebacks." He sat up, straddling Harvey and reaching for the nearest drawer without permission. He dug through it for a moment, then he huffed. "Where...?"

"Other side," Harvey answered, and enjoyed the view as the kid crawled across the California King. Tonight, he was fucking someone who said 'nuh-uh' and 'no takebacks.' Amazing what one would forgive for a nice ass. He tucked his hands behind his head when Mike came back and smirked at the look of annoyance. "Hey, it's your show. I'm just a dick, apparently."

"In so many ways," the kid muttered, and Harvey's grin sharpened a bit.

His fingers flexed against his scalp as Mike climbed back astride his waist and reached back to prep himself. Harvey couldn't see much beyond Mike's face, eyelids heavy, mouth parted as he stared at Harvey's body.

The kid's wrist twisted, breath hitching. "Thank God for narcissists. How much do abs like that cost a guy like you, anyway?"

God, this kid. It shouldn't be a turn-on. "Thrown in as a perk when I gave up my soul."

Mike grinned, wide and honest and half a second from a laugh. He withdrew his fingers. "And then when you die and go to hell, you can answer to Satan!"

Harvey stared, baffled by the sudden change in attitude. And concerned that he was fucking an evangelist. Then something about Mike's cadence clicked. "...South Park? Seriously?"

"It spoke to a generation."

The sheer absurdity of this, as he was fitted with a condom, made him question Mike's sanity. Or his own. "Oh my god, I'm about to fuck a child."

Mike's eyebrows rose towards his hairline, and he swung off of Harvey's hips.

One of Harvey's hands flew out to halt the sudden departure. "Woah, hey, where are you - "

It was a terrible sign of how badly this kid threw him, this flash of concern he'd _offended_ Mike somehow. And the kid's smirk said he knew it. He shook Harvey's hand off and reversed his earlier position.

"Figured we'd both prefer the view this way," he said over his shoulder, pressing the head of Harvey's dick to his hole and sinking back.

Harvey's free hand curled around Mike's hipbone, unclenching his jaw long enough to say, "That's funny because I'm hideous."

And then he said _absolutely nothing_ because Mike began to move. In a way that meant Harvey had to wonder if his other job involved a pole. If it was, he was unusually chaste for his profession, because his ass was tight as hell.

"Shit," he breathed, nails digging into Mike's hip and his own scalp. He was mesmerized stupid by the sight of his dick sliding in and out of a clinging hole, and the ache of the downward bend Mike was forcing only made it better. He wanted to flip them and pound that ass hard, but he restrained himself to small pulsing movements in counterpoint to Mike's.

The kid asked for control. And, by God, he knew how to use it.

It took longer than Harvey would care to admit for his tunnel vision to broaden away from where they were joined. But when it did...Jesus.

The kid's spine moved like water with the way rolled his hips, his head tipped back, flush crawling down his neck. He looked wanton and lost in a way many tried to mimic, but the expression and the free sounds he was making were the real goddamn deal. Like it was so good it was painful. Like Harvey's dick shut off his brain.

The point of Mike's hip was sharp when Harvey's grip tightened; the kid was too damn skinny...the shape of his tailbone clearly visible, and the hint of his vertebral spines peeking out, and that really should not be pretty at all. But his skin was slick with sweat and the play of every muscle in his back was right there on display, and Harvey couldn't help but free his other hand so he could touch them. Slide his hands along that sweat and sink his fingers in those flanks and start thrusting up in earnest.

Mike groaned, full-throated, and braced back on Harvey's abs (the ones he must've sold his soul for, which brought a foreign, fleeting twinge of humor-fondness-irritation). The pace and rhythm changed, less _rolling_ , more _impaling_ , and Harvey thanked God for soundproofing when Mike's approval hit high volume.

Mike had outstanding stamina. He kept it up so long that Harvey saw spots, until he could no longer take it, hindbrain so in charge he couldn't sort out exactly what _it_ was. But somehow his fist found a grip in Mike's short and messy hair, pulled til his slender neck was craning, til he made this _prey_ sound and Harvey's balls drew tight.

Pulled more until Mike toppled and landed back to Harvey's chest, feet bracing on the bed for leverage...hand twisting in Harvey's hair, arching and writhing, desperate.

"Jesus," Harvey muttered, because it flipped his switch to _rutting animal_. He hadn't known that switch _existed_. After all that, to have this kid belly-bared and powerless really turned his crank.

Harvey pinned Mike back against him and wrapped his hand around Mike's cock, keeping pace as best he could with hardly any leverage.

"Oh fuck." The first words Mike had spoken since he mounted Harvey's dick, and Harvey nearly echoed...Mike _clenched_ as Harvey touched him and that almost finished him off. He grit his teeth and jacked Mike faster, rutting up with shallow thrusts that, from the sound of things, made up with angle what they lacked in force.

Mike arched and froze like he just couldn't manage any more. "Oh shit. Oh. _God_."

He pulled Harvey's hair painfully as he came, and Harvey bit his shoulder, concentration on himself. A few awkward, hard-won thrusts that made Mike shout, and he collapsed against the bed.

Harvey should give his trainer that raise he wanted. Reverse crunches apparently had practical application.

Mike was heavier than he looked. Harvey rolled the kid off him to the side, and was tempted, for a moment, to just roll over and sleep.

Dirty condoms getting lost on four thousand thread-count sheets were not his idea of respecting the help.

With a groan that made him feel very old, he pushed himself out of bed towards the bathroom to clean up.

Mike, apparently, had no such compunctions. He was passed out on his stomach when Harvey came back – drooling on Egyptian cotton. He looked more like a frat boy than a soul-leeching sex demon.

Appearances could apparently be fucking deceiving.

*

Harvey woke up to someone muttering about a tie.

At first, he thought he was having that dream again. The one where Rene finally lost his mind and came at Harvey with a hatchet for staining his lapel. But he had the feeling that, even on a full rampage, Rene would never swear this much or this colorfully.

He dragged himself to consciousness to find the source of vulgarity. Mike was rushing around, slightly wild-eyed, fully dressed and fully wrinkled with a big black hickey on his neck.

Harvey didn't typically go for morning sex. He hated to skip the gym, and more than one round spread across more than one day sometimes gave people ideas. But he found himself amenable, in this instance.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Mike didn't even spare him a glance. He made an 'ah-ha' sound and came up with that tacky tie.

"Work," he finally answered, as he shoved it in his pocket. Harvey had to cringe, even for something of such low quality.

He squinted at the clock, which read 5:58. "I didn't think it was socially acceptable for people to drink in public this time of the morning."

Mike finally turned and gave him a look. "Different job. We mere plebians usually require more than one."

Harvey blinked up at him, not his sharpest before dawn. He couldn't think up anything that was going to get him laid.

"Look, no offense," Mike finally said, "I mean, honestly, you _are_ God's gift to anyone who likes dick, so rest easy...that's not just your overblown ego. I just don't think this'll work for me as a Thing. So." Mike eyed him for a moment. "Bye."

Speechless, Harvey listened as Mike made out the front door. Then he let himself laughed a little, since there was no one there to hear.

_Sweetheart, you say the nicest things._

Harvey enjoyed the respect that he had earned with his new station, whether genuine or forced. But he found perverse enjoyment in Mike's brand of disregard. Maybe because he recognized the cause. That mix of gnawing envy for what you wanted and burning resentment for those who didn't appreciate that they had it.

And the cold comfort of believing that you might be a have-not but you weren't a stupid prick.

He was sure he had sneered in a very similar fashion at a pretty young lawyer who saw her mail boy was too smart. There were echoes of his younger self in that smartassed little shit.

But he'd been nineteen, and grabbed the first chance that came along to get what others had. If Mike had failed to claw his way up by now, it was probably as much a character flaw as the indifference of the world.

So he found himself unfazed that the kid had won this round. Although, maybe not, he thought, since losing never felt this good.

Either way, an interesting night. And if he got up right now, he'd actually be on time for work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should I warn for research half-assery?
> 
> I should definitely apologize that there's still no proper title.

Harvey didn't... _forget_ about Mike, exactly. Because he wasn't senile. But once he'd dashed out the front door, he'd been stowed in his proper place. Namely, fond memories to inspire Harvey when he was too busy for sex.

Which he was, shortly after. He didn't have time to moon, great lay or not.

So Mike wasn't his first thought when his doorman buzzed up, two weeks later, at one o'clock in the morning. There was a _young man_ waiting for him, quite insistent, refused to leave.

Harvey wiped his face and drew a blank. The only thing he could think of was his associate...what's-his-face. Who'd damn well never been invited to his home, but it was possible someone had died. Or gone bankrupt (arguably worse).

He advised the doorman to let the kid up, and pulled on a pair of pants. Anyone expecting more than that shouldn't have shown up while he was sleeping.

The 'young man' at his door was _not_ his Harvard douche associate.

"Mike. I wasn't expecting you." Ever again. Especially drunk...which he was, very, from the way he swayed against the doorjamb.

"Harvey. I want your dick."

Harvey felt his eye twitch at the volume of that statement – thank God his neighbors' places were as soundproofed as his own. If Mike thought that charming opener was going to make him swoon, he was _so very_ wrong.

"And I want a good night's sleep, so why don't you just -"

He winced as Mike's knees hit the floor so hard, _Harvey_ 'd need replacement surgery. And then there was a mouth wetting the material over his cock, and Harvey looked down with some exasperation.

But he shut the door. Because he wasn't an exhibitionist.

He debated hauling Mike off the floor for half a second. But fuck it. Drunk or not, the kid was all grown up, and he was drooling his consent all over Harvey's sweatpants. Sleep would come quicker after a blowjob anyway. So Mike kind of owed him one.

Once he gave Mike access, Harvey enjoyed the same obscene enthusiasm the kid put into fucking. His technique could use some work, but that could've been the booze.

Mike was taking 'gagging for it' just a little bit too literally. If he puked on Harvey's floor, there was going to be a reckoning.

After, when he was hauling Mike's dead weight to the sofa, he had to question what the hell he'd seen in him before.

Somewhat assured that Mike couldn't steal something of value without making a huge racket, Harvey went back to bed and woke up to find his couch already empty. As he folded up the blanket and pillow he'd provided, he found an envelope, too fat to fold, wedged between the cushions.

When he looked inside, his eyebrows shot up.

*

While Harvey had no clue about Mike's number, address or even last name, he did know where the kid worked on Friday nights...assuming the night they met was his regular shift. So he dropped by after work, finding it worth the inconvenience to see Mike blanch as he was spotted.

"God, look, I know that was – I was trashed, I didn't...shouldn't have shown up like that, but this is where I _work_ so - "

"I'm not here to cause you problems," he interrupted, because hushed or no, Mike's voice was working up to a panic. Which was sort of interesting, really. What the hell did he think Harvey meant to _do_?

"Okay...." Mike looked confused. "Well. If you're here for an apology, I really am - "

"Wrong." Harvey lowered his voice even further, so he wouldn't be heard at other tables. "Though next time you choose to fall face-first on my dick, I'd rather you were sober."

The blush that hit Mike's cheekbones clashed with the annoyance on his face. "I'm not - "

Harvey waved him off. "Seriously not why I'm here. I thought you might like this back." As soon as Harvey revealed the envelope, Mike's face went slack and pale...in a way that made it clear he'd had no idea he'd lost it. His fingers twitched where they were braced against the table. "Do I even want to know where you got ten grand in cash? Or why you need it in the first place?"

"Oh my god. Jesus. Thanks for – thanks." Mike looked shaken and relieved all at once, like he'd had a near-miss with something _very bad_. He slid the envelope into his wait apron and took a breath to steady him out. Harvey watched him choose to ignore the questions in favor of distraction. "So. You want me sober, huh?"

The verbal proximity of sex to cash put Harvey off a little. "Only if you want to be there."

"Dude. Swear to God, I don't confuse my life with some after-school special."

Harvey wasn't all that sure, but Mike wasn't his client. His concerns had faded as soon as Mike had rolled his eyes. "Don't call me 'dude.'"

Mike grinned. "Ok, _dude_. You gonna order something, or make room for an actual tipper?"

"What, ten grand wasn't enough?"

Mike's hand went by reflex to his pocket. "Seriously, thank you. Not everyone would do that."

Harvey slid out of the booth. "Not everyone would wander the streets of New York drunk with that kind of cash in their pocket. Try not to be a _complete_ moron in the future?"

"Yes, dad. Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?"

Harvey raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, you call me 'dad,' then make a date to screw me?"

"Some people get off on that sort of thing."

Harvey leaned in, though they'd both been quiet as it was. "Are you one of them, Mike?"

He watched Mike's expression blank. "What? I was joking."

But his pupils dilated. Harvey smirked.

"Show up by nine or don't show up at all." He started to walk away, then thought better of it. "And Mike? I don't need to know how you came by that money, but if it isn't strictly legal, it comes nowhere near my building."

He waited for a nod before he left the bar.

*

Harvey was vaguely tempted to have Vanessa look into Mike, but that went past cautious and edged towards creepy. And honestly, the kid struck him as self-destructive more than dangerous. Whatever he was doing, it was likely very stupid but not Harvey's concern.

The doorman knew Mike was expected this time, so Harvey had some warning when Mike knocked.

8:53. Cutting it close, but not too close.

"It's possible your doorman thinks I'm a hooker," Mike said as soon as Harvey opened the door.

"Hello to you, too." Apparently he'd need to teach the kid that some things should not be said out in the hallway. As a stopgap, Harvey pulled him bodily over the threshold and closed the door. "Doubtful. Any hooker in this income bracket would know not to show up reeking of cheap liquor."

"Oh man, you're never gonna let me forget that, are you?"

"It left an impression." Harvey frowned. "And now you're leaving a different one. Why do you smell like you just finished a triathlon?"

"You said nine. I just got off work."

How many jobs did this damn kid have? Harvey started to ask, then decided not to care. "Ok. Well. I'm not fucking you while you smell like that."

Mike smirked. "That's what you get for giving orders and walking away. I could've told you I needed more time. I'll grab a shower." He walked away, already stripping.

"Make yourself at home," Harvey said dryly.

"You're a gracious host." Mike disappeared into the bathroom, but raised his voice and continued. His manners really were appalling. "Next you'll offer to play chess instead of screw."

The shower flipped on, drowning out any response Harvey might've made.

At least bastardizing Blazing Saddles was an improvement over Cartman.

*

Mike was a regular smartass fixture in Harvey's varied sex life and had been for a month the first time he proved himself more than a waiter / bike messenger / probable delinquent.

It was a night that he'd shown up without warning much less invitation, which explained why he was there at all – if he'd asked to come over, Harvey would have said no. He was working on a deadline and what he had was less than promising.

But he didn't object to a fleeting distraction, and once Mike had been passed out in Harvey's bed, he'd returned to the couch for more fruitless research.

The sun was coming up over the city when Mike stumbled back into the living room. It wasn't unusual for him to wake this early, but Harvey didn't usually witness it.

"Have you been at it all night?"

"Some of us have jobs that don't end when we take off our synthetic uniform."

"Your verbal barbs wound me," Mike said, unbothered. "Anything I can do to help?"

Sleep-deprived and annoyed with himself, Harvey glared. "If I need a cocktail, I'll let you know."

"It's funny because I'm a moron. No, seriously, I know how you like to hear yourself talk. Maybe if you bore me with the details, it'll shake something loose."

It was probably a waste of time, but he was running out of options. And he did his best thinking in front of an audience.

"I swear, I'll just sit here and look pretty," Mike said when he was quiet. He settled into Harvey's couch and made a big show of zipping his mouth shut.

"Because the maturity of that gesture inspires confidence," Harvey said, but launched into the salient details, stripped of all identifying information. One of his clients had a high-level executive that was dug in against retirement – he was barely competent, they had a far better replacement already chosen, but they were tired of waiting for him to move on.

They'd guilded his parachute as much as they were willing, so now they looked to Harvey for a way to force him out. It wasn't an urgent problem in the most classic sense, but he was scheduled to meet them for breakfast this morning, and he wanted to have an answer.

Unfortunately, he had no answer to give. Nothing useful in the bylaws, and despite being a moron, the guy was squeaky clean. Harvey thought he'd had one thing they could use as leverage, but it hadn't panned out on inspection. As he went back over every angle, looking for something new, he realized he was going to have to reschedule with excuses.

"Back up," Mike broke into his thoughts. "You forgot about Sarbanes-Oxley."

Harvey looked at the kid blankly – he'd half-forgotten Mike was even there. He was so thrown off his rhythm, it took a moment to put the words in context. "I didn't; it's irrelevent post-2007. Statute of limitations applies."

"Not if you can find actions to cover up the violations, established in the 6th Circuit, May 2008."

"I knew that," he said reflexively. Everything slid into place. Weak, but they could use it. He ignored the face that Mike pulled then, and the fact that he hadn't thought of it himself. Which finally brought him up short. "Wait. How did _you_?"

"I like to read." Mike's face closed up, as shut off and defensive as he'd been the night they met.

It wouldn't help matters, but Harvey didn't bother to hide his incredulity. "You like to read finance reform passed before you could drink, and court decisions from the Ohio River Valley?"

"Technically, the Ohio River Valley includes parts of Indiana, some of Pennsylvania and most of West Virginia – 7th, 3rd and 4th circuits, respectively. And you're discounting Minnesota, not to mention Tennessee, which have separate watersheds. Also, those decisions have impact at the federal level, so it's not quite as obscure as you're making it sound."

If he was trying to distract Harvey from the answer to his question, it was working.

Mike stood and stretched while Harvey was still calculating how much time he had to extract real answers. "God, I'm not sure what bothers me more – that I just helped you fire a guy before breakfast, or that the guy is going to skate with more money than I'll ever see in my life. Either way, I feel dirty...dibs on first shower."

Harvey's meeting was in three hours; he owed part of his success to his ability to backburner everything in favor of his job. By the time Mike left, Harvey hardly even noticed.

Hardly. But he flipped his phone open and hit speed dial seven. "Vanessa? I need a favor."

He'd given Mike a chance to _tell_ him the answers – but while it was his prerogative to decline, Harvey meant to have them anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

Nothing Vanessa brought Harvey was a revelation.

He'd asked her to stick to public record this time...that could be why. He still found it slightly creepy to have a bed partner investigated, and if nothing big popped on the surface, he thought the least he could do was preserve some of Mike's privacy.

But at most, public record just confirmed Harvey's impressions. At a glance, Mike-on-paper was relatively boring. He had his story – everyone did – but in the grand scheme of things, it was remarkably average. An alternative (sad, but not unheard of) family situation, some minor run-ins with the law, and a series of worthless jobs that befitted a college dropout.

If he'd never met Mike, Harvey would assume he was your average disappointment. But then, most people were. On second pass, he got more interesting, but only just. And really, only due to Harvey's observations of the man himself.

Van hadn't gotten transcripts, of course, but Mike had apparently been valedictorian of his high school. He'd been registered for three semesters at Columbia before stopping school entirely. Harvey had to wonder why, but he knew it wasn't money – Vanessa had found a public announcement with scholarship recipients, and Mike had gotten a full ride.

So the kid was bright. Harvey already knew that. He'd done very well in school, which meant he had some motivation.

If Mike was as smart as Harvey suspected him to be, though, he could've achieved all of that with half his functioning brain cells.

Which might be the case. He had an arrest record composed of minor possession, and a sealed juvie record that said use began before that.

The other thing of note dated back to Mike's tenth birthday. When he'd lost his parents, he'd been with them in the car.

To Harvey, it all added up into a disappointing (predictable) story. Something horrible had happened to Mike as a child, and he'd used it as an excuse long after he should've grown the hell up. He'd turned his back on his potential, to smoke pot and wait on morons.

With what he had here before him, Harvey couldn't justify digging further. He called Vanessa off.

*

But. Mike's cliche life story didn't diminish Harvey's interest in his brain. Now that he knew Mike was more than just a pretty face (and a damn sharp tongue), Harvey couldn't keep from testing him. The sad fact was, he got more useful legal counsel and far more stimulation from his debates with Mike than anyone he worked with – possibly excepting Jessica.

And Mike never questioned the sudden interest in conversation. He seemed damn near starving for this kind of stimulation, eager and guileless with it, which was disconcerting. Given how Mike was in bed.

Outside intel wasn't necessary for this piece of Mike, either. Harvey formed a theory from the encyclopedic breadth of Mike's memory alone, one that was easy to confirm. There was a cadence Mike took when Harvey thought he was reciting, and a few well-googled phrases told him he was right.

The kid had photographic memory. Had to be damn nice. It was no wonder he'd excelled through high school, when the bulk of your success was pure regurgitation.

But Harvey couldn't mark down Mike's failure at Columbia to him being a one-trick pony. Not all straight-A students could keep those grades in college, true, but Mike had the ability to think critically in spades. The kid kept up with or outpaced _him_ on a fairly regular basis, so clearly he could hack it.

He just... _hadn't_. For some reason.

Nor had he lost interest in learning altogether. Enough of what Mike cited was recent publication, and his more random fact-vomit was laced with "I read the other day" and "there was this study recently." By all appearances, Mike devoured everything he got his hands on.

Which left Harvey one conclusion...Mike feared success (or failure). Rising too high and falling too far. Harvey found that thought annoying. As ballsy as Mike was, he'd chosen to chicken out? On his _life_ , of all things?

Harvey's respect didn't lie with born talent. No one deserved praise for winning the game of genetic inheritance. Harvey respected _work_ , and cunning and persistence.

But every time Mike found the key to one of Harvey's cases – anonymized, hypotheticized, or pulled from mental cold storage – he couldn't help his admiration. Harvey couldn't help respecting how Mike's mind worked.

It was tangled up in irritation, though. Because, what Harvey couldn't do if he had Mike at the office. They'd be a goddamn force of nature.

*

Harvey woke up one Saturday to Mike jackknifing up and swearing, then scrambling out of bed. A glance at the clock, then at Mike's frantic dressing, had him concluding, "Late for work?"

"No, but the MCAT starts at eight."

Harvey frowned. Mike wasn't enrolled in college, but maybe he'd missed something after all. "You're applying to med school?"

The kid froze for a split second, just a hitch in his movements as he tugged on his shoes. "I'm barely gonna make it, gotta go. Bye."

Harvey listened to the door slam and thought for a moment. Then he reached for his phone.

"Hey Van? I do need more on that kid, Mike Ross. Whatever you can get me."

He thought the call was dropped, it took her so long to reply. "Wow. Harvey Specter, bitten at last."

"...What?"

"Well I know he's not a case. You'd've had me go deeper from the get-go. Can I just tell you how _Harvey_ it is to put a PI on this instead of finding out yourself? Very stalker-esque, but I'll be generous and assume it's because you're emotionally stunted."

"It's not - "

"So you're not sleeping with him?"

Harvey said nothing, and Vanessa laughed.

"I'm curious. That's all," he told her. It sounded unconvincing, even to his ears.

"Whatever you say."

He forced back his irritation. "Start with test scores, entrance testing. Get me those first, then keep digging."

"Give me a few days. Shouldn't take long."

*

As it turned out, Mike avoided him for a week, so by the next time Harvey saw him, the mystery was cracked. When Mike finally reappeared, he claimed that 'things got crazy,' which translated easily for Harvey into 'I was giving you time to forget about med school because I actually took that test for cash.'

That was Harvey's best answer, anyway.

He'd been baffled to discover a slew of standardized exams in the folder Van delivered. From high school through the present, all with Mike's name on them...all with abysmal scores. PSAT, SAT, ACT, GRE, LSAT, MCAT...the whole damn alphabet and he'd failed every one. More than once, each. By the time he'd reached the back, he'd been seriously confused. Did Mike have test anxiety? Bad enough that even with his skills, he kept washing out?

Except, there was one SAT score in the pile that was _perfect_ , 1600. It was his first, and had presumably earned Mike his college admission and full ride.

When he'd gotten to the final piece of paper, it had been tacked with a post-it..."You'll really like this one." Not sure what the hell that meant, he'd pulled it off and then he'd stared.

College drop-out Mike had taken the New York bar. And passed with flying colors. Hell, those colors weren't just flying, they were doing somersaults.

Harvey tried on and discarded half a dozen explanations. Nothing fit. The most mundane one being Mike had cheated for the good scores. If he'd gained access to a test key, it wouldn't be that hard...his memory being what it was. He could've memorized _all_ that year's keys without straining himself.

But Harvey didn't like that. Even _if_ he'd cheated for college entrance, it didn't explain why the good score had come first. And it surely didn't explain the Bar. Mike hadn't finished his bachelor's, much less his JD, so there would've been no point.

It took a case of witness tampering at work to make heads or tails of it. He'd fallen for a bait-and-switch, but when he caught it, everything clicked. Not just on the case, but with Mike as well.

He hadn't been cheating _up_ ; he'd earned money cheating _down_. The crappy test scores were no doubt earned by his clients, with a well-timed swap of answer sheets.

"You're being really quiet...do you want me to go?"

Harvey blinked himself to present, taking in Mike's face. He looked half-sure Harvey was angry. Which he was, actually, but he wasn't sure what to do with it yet.

"No. Sorry, just. Work, on my mind."

Mike perked up. "Want to tell me about it?"

Harvey studied him. This kid, for whatever hare-brained reason, scored close to perfect on the _Bar_. The cheating scheme had pissed him off, but that still hit Harvey hard. It made him want to pat Mike on the back, then throttle him to death.

Over the past few months, the urge had become familiar.

Crap, was Vanessa right? A little bit, at least? Not the love business, clearly, but he might be too invested. Mike was sort of fascinating, but also a train wreck in slow motion.

"No, it's. Maybe later."

"Okay. You want to be distracted?" Mike practically waggled his eyebrows...which wouldn't've been surprising.

He constantly stooped to new lows of goofy. This was a far less guarded kid than the one that he'd first slept with.

Harvey wondered, maybe, if Mike was invested too.

Mike flipped off the tv and crawled into Harvey's lap, but Harvey couldn't make himself stop thinking. On troubling things like 'when the hell did I last sleep with someone else?' and 'why were we watching tv together' and 'how had this happened without me noticing?'

"I wanna ride your dick," Mike panted, squirming in his lap "That oughtta turn your mind off."

"No."

It was emphatic enough that it startled them both. He was typically on board with Mike's favorite hobby, but the sizzling anger in his chest demanded something different.

"Ah," Mike smirked, like he had Harvey's number. "I see...one of _those_ days."

It was infuriating how Mike got smug like this was all about Harvey. Most days, he let Mike do as he pleased. What pleased Mike pleased the _hell_ out of Harvey. Sometimes, though, when the kid pissed him off, he couldn't just sit back.

Sometimes it felt amazing to hold Mike down and school him, and the little bastard loved it. He didn't _like_ that he enjoyed it, but nine times out of ten, Mike went slack and submissive the minute Harvey pinned him down.

And case #10 was not disagreeable, where Mike fought him for control, and Harvey won regardless.

Until Harvey made a move, though, he'd do this: act like he would play along for _Harvey's_ sake but _he_ didn't get anything out of it.

It made Harvey want to bruise him.

This time Harvey realized he wanted that too much. He took a deep breath and pushed Mike off his lap.

"I need you to go."

Mike's face fell. "What?"

"I just need an evening to myself."

Mike shook his head. "That's bullshit, you were just - "

"If you stay, I'm going to paddle your ass til you're begging me to stop."

Mike froze, eyes wide.

Harvey had yet to do anything much beyond the realm of ordinary. A little wrestling as foreplay, restraining Mike with his own hands. He thought, based on Mike's reactions, that he'd like more, that he angled for it, sometimes, when he pushed Harvey's buttons.

But if he couldn't _ask_ for it, or admit he even liked it, Harvey wouldn't go there.

"But you don't want that."

He waited for Mike to contradict him, but he knew that he wouldn't. Even if that wasn't strictly true.

"Harvey - "

"For tonight, you should just go."

Harvey didn't hear from him for a good month and a half.


	5. Chapter 5

Harvey hadn't realized how _much_ time he spent with Mike until the kid disappeared. In the time that they'd been sleeping together (since the night Gerald Tate tried to screw his ex-VP, so...four months? Five? He hadn't known it was that long...) Mike had gone from one night stand to someone who came over nearly every night. To stay or just for dinner, for sex or for a case or just a Star Trek marathon.

And then...nothing.

Harvey stopped calling shortly after it was obvious Mike wasn't going to answer. Or call back. It was stupid, juvenile bullshit. It was what Harvey deserved, really, for sleeping with a kid who was actually _younger_ than his years.

It wasn't like he missed him. His place was quiet now. And _clean_.

When Van sent another folder, Harvey didn't throw it out. It was even more questionable to read her research with Mike avoiding Harvey's calls, but he was pretty sure that was temporary. So he looked over Mike's finances, and didn't tell her to stop looking.

He let her keep delivering intel until one month after Mike had gone.

Then he threw everything out.

*

Two weeks later, a call came to his cell from an unidentified number. It looked vaguely familiar though, so he picked up. And it was Mike.

"Listen this is...I wanna say up front this is shitty of me, I know that, but I really need a favor."

Harvey swung away from Donna's line of sight, torn between annoyance and a really misplaced sense of pleasure. " _Really_."

"I know. Trust me, I know. I wasn't gonna call but...I'm in a situation here."

He sounded a little off. Harvey grit his teeth against alarm. "What kind of situation?"

"I need some money. To _borrow_. You'll get it back, after – you'll get it back, I guarantee that."

Wherever Mike was, there was a lot of background noise. That wasn't strange for New York City, but this wasn't normal street sound. "I assume it's a sum of money you can't raise waiting tables."

"It's...no."

There was silence on the line. Harvey waited it out as long as he was willing. "Well? How much are we talking?"

"Shit," Mike muttered. There was a rustling on the other end. "It's a lot. This is a bad idea, actually."

"Mike. You called. Spit it out."

"Two hundred grand."

Harvey's eyebrows rose. It was doable for him. In practical terms, he'd barely feel it, even if he didn't get it back, but.... He wasn't feeling generous. Mike had disappeared for _six weeks_. Why the hell should he?

And why the hell did Mike need that kind of money? It could be his grandmother. Not her regular care, probably, but if she'd gotten sick...or if she'd died, there could be debts. Or _Mike_ could be sick. It was unlikely he had health insurance. That would explain the edge of fear in his voice.

"You don't even have to see me," Mike said finally. "And I'll sign whatever. I'll pay you interest."

The badly concealed panic growing in Mike's voice made Harvey's jaw twitch, though he should tell him to fuck off. "Fine. Fine, you can have it."

"Seriously?" Mike sounded shocked. He let out a shaky breath. "Oh my god, thank you. Harvey, I swear you'll get it back."

"I'd better," he said severely, although that wasn't his highest concern. "Come by tonight, and we'll discuss how you need the money."

"Um. I...Harvey, I can't."

His chest hurt (where his heart should be). "This big a favor, and I don't get thanked in person? Tacky, even for you."

"That's not...."

"Come over tonight or find another source of money."

"Harvey...." Mike sounded at a loss, trailing off into silence, but suddenly it didn't matter. Harvey understood. He sat up.

The sounds in the background were familiar, and it finally clicked from where.

"Mike, where are you being held?"

Mike barked out an unhappy laugh. "I don't need you to come here."

"You don't _want_ me to come there, and right now _your_ wants don't mean jack shit to me. I can find out regardless, so save Donna the time."

There was a long, reluctant silence. Harvey was turning to signal Donna (who might already be looking into it, knowing her) when Mike finally spoke. "They moved me out to Rikers. GMDC."

Which meant this hadn't just happened. "In a couple hours, a CO will come get you and say your lawyer's there. You _will_ come out and meet me or you're on your own with bail."

He snapped the phone shut, sure that would prevent further idiocy.

Two hundred grand for bail. Sure as hell not turnstile jumping. What in God's name was Mike into? He'd missed something big.

God _fucking_ dammit.

He called Ray for a pickup.

"I assume I'm canceling your next appointment?" the intercom said.

He swung around and looked at Donna, who was arching a brow at him through the door.

 _Shit_. This goddamn kid. "Clear everything for the rest of my day."

Her eyebrows went up. "...Okie-dokey."

They'd be talking about this later. Just terrific.

*

He reached out to a contact in the DA's office from the car. The information she provided did _not_ improve his mood.

"An entire _suitcase_. Fucking _genius_."

Ray glanced in the rear view, then apparently decided it was prudent to keep his eyes on the road. Harvey rarely lost his temper, but somehow Mike had gotten himself charged with _Class C possession_ with _Intent to fucking Distribute_ \- and, here was the real kicker – it had happened _five weeks_ ago.

Bail had been set a few days later, but since Mike couldn't raise the cash and had neither an indemnitor nor collateral to contract with a bondsman, he'd been at Rikers for a month.

It was easier to cling to anger than guilt, because that was total bullshit. Mike had been in jail nearly this whole time, but how that could be his fault, he didn't even know. This was exactly why he didn't do emotions. They were utterly irrational.

Even the anger was worse than useless. He spent the last part of the car ride tucking it away.

The routine of getting into Rikers was oddly calming, if unpleasant. By the time a CO showed Mike into the room, Harvey's game face was back on.

Mike looked drawn and pale, and gray was not his color. Fucking guilt. He took a breath.

"First, how are you doing?" It was the same question he'd ask any client in jail, but Mike was caught off guard. Lest he think that Harvey _cared_ , he clarified his meaning. "Are you being harassed too seriously? Are you worried for your safety?"

Since the only possible answers for a guy like _Mike_ were 'yes' and 'hell yes,' he was stunned when Mike immediately relaxed and said, "I'm fine."

"You're _fine_ ," Harvey said slowly. "You're so _fine_ that you chose to vacation here a month, instead of calling up that lawyer you've been fucking?"

Mike flinched a little. "I thought I could take care of it. It shouldn't have to be your problem."

Harvey had a lot to say to that, but he forced himself to throttle back. He was here as an attorney, not...whatever. "Ok. What changed?"

"I need to do more research," Mike said seriously. "I've run through everything I could get my hands on, here."

It sounded nonsensical, until he made the leap. "Mike. Are you planning to represent yourself?"

Mike's jaw firmed. "I've done it before. It's fine."

He had done it before, successfully. For _non-criminal_ possession, and though the court transcripts had been a thing of beauty, Mike had clearly done it more or less for fun, and to save himself a $100 fine. Harvey badly wanted to explain in detail why Mike was a moron, but he shouldn't know any of that, so he settled on broad strokes.

"No way in hell. You need a _lawyer_. What happened to your PD?"

"He wanted to plea bargain."

"Not a stupid move. Class C Felony with intent to distribute. Clean arrest, _dumb defendant_." Mike looked away. "You need a real lawyer, Mike."

"I can't afford one."

" _Dumb_ ," Harvey insisted. "Why didn't you call me?"

"It's not your problem," Mike repeated. Then, "You were already mad. I knew you'd be pissed about it."

"You thought I would be mad."

"Gee, I wonder why?" Mike muttered.

He'd been sleeping with a five-year-old. "That's a stupid goddamn reason."

"Well I'm dumb, remember?" He chewed his lip. "I almost did, a couple times. Things weren't great....then Trevor got here, and I figured I didn't have to bother you."

Who the fuck was Trevor? "...Is he a _lawyer_? Because if he's not, you should've 'bothered me' anyway."

"He's a friend of mine."

"Ahh, the kind of friend you share a cell with. Charming."

"He's only here for me."

Harvey's eyes narrowed. "What does _that_ mean?"

"Really? Jealousy, now?" Mike scrubbed a hand over his face. Harvey didn't want to answer that, so he was glad when Mike went on. "We've been friends since we were kids, _best_ friends. He couldn't bail me out, and he knew that I was freaked, so he got himself arrested."

Harvey almost laughed. Sweet _Christ_. The kid's friends were worse than him. And Mike said this, with a straight face, like Trevor was a hero.

"Okay. So let me sum this up. You got arrested in possession of fifteen pounds of pot. They had you cold. You fired your PD for giving you sensible advice, then your best friend pulled a stunt - which, frankly, shouldn't have worked in the _movies_ – so he could be your bunkmate and body guard. And now you're only calling me, a powerful attorney, not to _represent you_ , but to get bail money because you've run out of _books_ to read. Which you need to go to trial by yourself, so that presumably you can get yourself acquitted with no real experience to speak of."

By the time he was finished, Mike's eyes were glued to the table. "When you put it like that..."

"That was a simple restating of the facts. I don't even have to _try_ to make you sound insane. I'm posting bail, on a couple conditions - first being, I'm your lawyer."

"I can't afford you."

Harvey stared.

"I can't though, right?"

"Mike, you can't afford to _look_ at me, professionally. I'm doing this pro bono, and believe me, I don't do that. So don't ask me to represent your little friend."

Mike looked sheepish. "Yeah, that's the thing, they're springing him next week."

"I had a feeling. _I need books_ is just about the most transparent excuse ever."

"I see that, in hindsight. So. That was the first condition."

"The first condition was just necessary to the second. I'm not doing this out of the kindness of my heart."

Mike looked gratifyingly wary. "Okay...."

Harvey stared him down, and questioned if he wanted to actually do this. Sure, it worked out well for Jessica, but lightning didn't strike twice. But he forged ahead. "I _own_ you after this. You'll do everything I say."

Mike smirked. "Kinky."

Harvey felt his gut go cold. "I don't sleep with felons."

Mike's smirk fell. "Then why are you doing this?"

"Mike. I bill out at a thousand an hour. Your ass, while quite lovely, isn't worth that much." He felt pettily satisfied when Mike flushed bright red. He smiled and continued. "You're going to pay me back with lots and lots of money."

Mike looked confused. "You know that I'll appear, so you'll get the bail money back. I guess...I mean. It's going to take a while, but I can pay your fees eventually."

"Not by wasting yourself on minimum wage. You're going back to school, getting into Harvard Law, and earning stupid amounts of money for my law firm when you're done."

Mike opened his mouth. Then closed it.

The secret of his success as a closer was to make the only option 'yes.' Time to stage his retreat, before Mike rallied from the shock. Harvey had no doubt he was enough of a practiced masochist to turn down a shot like this.

"I'll have you out soon. Try not to make things worse."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if case the "suitcase" thing made you headtilt, in my mind Mike got away with dealing at the Chilton and has gotten deeper in the interim


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay...I got sidetracked by 25k and growing of suits AU D/s porn that hit me like a Mac truck. But now this is done, so...yay!

Harvey's first stop had been the DA, to get those wheels in motion.

Then he'd gone to get the bail process started. However confident Mike had seemed in this _Trevor_ 's ability, Harvey didn't see Mike associating with a hardened criminal. God only knew how they'd made it this long without mishap, but Harvey preferred not tempting fate by waiting longer than he had to.

It was a simple enough matter. No point bothering his broker over a temporary loan. He used a bondsman, the way Mike hadn't been able to.

Neither of those errands were Harvey's main concern. The real obstacle was Jessica.

It was close to end of business; she'd been annoyed with him already for leaving without notice, and she wasn't exactly impressed once Harvey explained to her why. But she gave him rope to hang himself with a perfectly neutral face.

Once he'd painted the broad strokes of what he was planning, she posed the question she'd likely held from the beginning.

"Mike. Please tell me this isn't the waiter you picked up when we were out together months ago."

"It is." Harvey made himself hold her gaze. "You know that's not the reason."

"It had better not be."

"You know me better, so I'm going to take that as rhetorical."

"You really think he's another you?"

"Smarter," Harvey told her, and saw her register surprise (in the admission, if not the fact). "Much dumber, but also smarter. He passed the Bar at twenty-three."

Now her eyebrows went up a little. "No college?"

"He dropped out. A few semesters. I considered pushing them to grant him entrance from that result, but he needs the hoops. As many as I can give him, actually. He'll pay off big, though. I can tell."

Jessica sighed. For a moment, Harvey thought that he pushed the idea too hard. Then her mouth settled into that deliberate not-smile.

"I won't guarantee him a position."

Harvey shrugged, suppressing the punch of victory. "Fair. You'll hire him anyway."

She was above rolling her eyes, but her smirk said it all. (It also said she loved it). "And I assume it goes unsaid that you won't be using firm money."

"I know." His own schooling had been financed by Jessica herself. But she'd been a brand-new Junior Partner; he'd hoped his own position would mean he might get firm money, but...really, he'd known he wouldn't. Jessica hadn't become Managing Partner this young by being free with money.

"Fine," she said, dismissing him. "I hope you don't regret this as frequently as I have."

Harvey grinned. "I hope I regret it _exactly_ as much as you have."

"Get out," she smiled sweetly. "And Harvey? If your work suffers, I'll make you wish he wasn't born."

"I'll feed him and walk him _and_ keep up my grades. I promise, Mom."

Her mouth twisted to hold in a laugh. "Just see that he doesn't mess on my carpet. Leave. Now."

*

When Ray stopped at the curb by Pearson Hardman, Mike stared out the window without moving. He'd spent another night at Rikers, but Harvey had collected him as soon as they released him.

"Where are we?"

Harvey knew how to pick a location to maximize his advantages. Mike had never seen his office; Harvey doubted he'd been in a building like this one, aside from delivering packages.

He got out without answering until Mike followed. "My office. We have things to discuss."

Mike, at least, was wearing a suit, if a very cheap one. He stuck out far more from his nerves than his attire as they made their way past Donna.

"Ok," Harvey began once Mike was settled uncomfortably. "First things first."

Nobody involved thought Mike was a master criminal. With Harvey's connections, it had been a fairly simple matter to convince the ADA to drop charges on Mike and have the arrest stricken in exchange for the dealers Mike was working for. Harvey imagined they'd end up flipping on the guys above them, who would then be stuck because flipping on _their_ bosses was a really bad idea.

Mike's record would be clean, one more distributor would be out of commission, and everyone would come out happy, aside from – presumably - the guys ending up in jail.

Mike seemed less enthusiastic than he should about this plan. "I have a condition."

Harvey cocked an eyebrow to show how amenable he was to this. Mike didn't heed it.

"The uh. My friend who got me into this, he's...look, he's not the brain-trust, alright? They don't really want him. We leave him out of it."

Harvey smiled. "I'm going to take a wild guess that this friend is named Trevor."

Mike had the sense, at least, to look rueful at that. Yes. Guilt was a far better motivator than pure concern for a friend when it came to getting yourself jailed.

"Well. If someone else drags him into it, then he's on his own, but I don't see the point in involving extra peons."

Mike relaxed a little at that. Harvey took it as agreement.

"You're set up with the ADA tomorrow at noon. I assume that's not a problem, since the service industry won't have given you paid leave."

Mike looked startled. "You already – never mind. No, they fired me."

"That's convenient, because you were going to quit anyway. Speaking of which...."

Harvey passed him the contract he'd drawn up. Mike flipped through a few pages and understood just what he read, but he apparently needed Harvey to state the obvious. "What is this?"

"Top page is just a waiver for my legal fees. The rest outlines the terms of a personal loan."

Mike was doing more than skimming now. His eyes were flicking so rapidly across the page that it made Harvey dizzy.

Oh yes. This would be a good investment.

"It's not a loan if I'm not required to return the principle, at least."

"Semantics. If you prefer, you can think of it as the Harvey Specter Genius Fuckup Rehabilitation Grant. I don't care. It's not without its strings."

"A lot of strings." Mike looked unhappy. "Harvey, I can't do this."

"You can, actually, since you won't be in _prison_."

"No, I literally can't. They aren't going to let me back in to college."

"Not a problem. You're enrolled at Columbia for the upcoming fall semester."

Mike gaped. "That's in what, a month?"

"Two weeks."

Harvey smirked at Mike's boggled expression, content to let him think it was magic. In reality, Harvey'd been thinking about this a while. The arrest had just given him the opening, and the leverage to take choice out of the equation.

Columbia, in fact, _hadn't_ wanted to take Mike back, but Harvey had made it happen.

Mike swallowed and looked down at the paperwork. "This is a lot. It basically dictates my life for the next ten years."

"And you had such big plans for them," Harvey said, with not a little sarcasm. It didn't seem to register. Mike was looking shell-shocked.

When Harvey'd bought his condo, before he'd even signed, he'd had a sort of backwards Buyer's Remorse. Not because he didn't want it (he did) or because it wasn't a good investment (it was) but because the sheer amount of debt he was taking on terrified him. Even though he knew he was good for it.

Mike, right now, was in much the same position. And he looked it.

Of course, the dirty truth was, if he defaulted on the terms, there could be few consequences except Harvey's wingtip in his ass. The contract made him liable for repaying all costs incurred, but if Mike dove back in the cesspool, Harvey'd never get it back.

It pleased him that Mike wasn't thinking in those terms.

"Sign the papers, Mike," Harvey said quietly, holding out a pen. The kid needed a little push, and he could be a gracious winner. "I swear, you won't regret it."

"Yeah, but will you?" Mike joked, but he looked a little ill.

Harvey didn't comment.

Mike took the pen and signed.

 

 

# Epilogue

 

Harvey had planned on drawing a clear line. Before, and after.

Before Mike nearly went to prison; after Harvey saved his ass. Before, when things were personal; after, when things were professional.

It was messy enough without personal ties, and frankly, he was still pissed at the kid.

The thing was, he forgot (did he really forget? He neglected it, for sure) to inform Mike of this policy.

So the kid kept showing up. He had the code for Harvey's elevator. Mike was often on the couch when Harvey arrived home.

It wasn't worth the trouble of changing security, really. Not when he'd probably need access again once he became associate.

And Harvey needed to keep an eye on the kid, make sure he stayed clear of Trevor. God knew he had time to get himself in trouble, even once classes started.

He took 21 hours at an Ivy League institution, and he barely broke a sweat. It made Harvey feel a strange mix of envy, pride and smug satisfaction (when he mentioned this to Jessica).

So Harvey allowed him to continue coming over. And privately, admitted that he liked having him around.

When Mike finally tried to kiss him, though, after weeks of covert looks and a couple of false starts, Harvey quickly pushed him away.

"Cool it, Romeo. I told you I don't make out with felons."

Mike considered him a moment, before smiling slowly and climbing into Harvey's lap. Harvey didn't stop him. "You said that you didn't _sleep_ with felons. And anyway, I'm not one. My record's clean. Ish. This great lawyer I was fucking got me off. "

Harvey smirked in spite of himself. Those were actually good loopholes. "You're not going to make the obvious pun here?"

"I would never," Mike's eyes shone. "I'm simply suggesting that you benefit from his brilliance."

Harvey looked up at that smug-but-giddy grin and couldn't smother his own.

"And what does he think about that?"

"Well. _He_ wishes he could still have me, but he thinks it's inappropriate now." Mike's teeth sank into the soft spot behind the joint of his jaw, and Harvey breathed in slowly. "It's totally lame."

Mike's voice ghosted over the saliva he had left, reverberating low and close to Harvey's ear. His hands found Mike's waist on their own.

"You don't agree, then."

"It's painfully obvious how badly he wants to fuck me." Harvey hissed as Mike rolled their hips together. "Plus, he doesn't strike me as a guy who wants to deny himself. Unless he's _really_ worried that he can't stay professional."

It had the innocent lilt of someone not innocent at all. It also came too close to Harvey's thoughts.

"Don't try to play me, kid. It _will not_ work."

"Of course not." Mike's eyes crinkled as he pulled back. Harvey swatted his ass, and Mike laughed.

This kid. He had a point, though.

"We can make it a reward system," Mike smirked. "You know...B is for Blowjob, A is for Ass-fucking - "

Harvey snorted. "I'm not that easy." That was less than coasting, for him. "More like top score gets you topped."

"I can do that," Mike told him, clearly feeling the deal close. "In fact, it just so happens I broke the curve on my first Policy exam."

Harvey laughed. "Of course you did."

Mike grinned. "I think that means you owe me one."

"I'd hate to break my own rules," Harvey agreed, and he kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who read and commented - yall have been sweet with my first foray into this fandom!
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> IMPORTANT NOTE: I just asked that this fic be removed from GoodReads - I am NOT comfortable with my work being on that site. please be courteous and do not add it or any of my other work back. Thanks!


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